


Anomaly

by KuriTheDweeb



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Batboys in MCU, Big Brother Jason Todd, Claire Temple is a Vigilante Whisperer, Frank Castle is a dad, Interdimensional Travel, Witch Peter Parker, night nurse - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2020-08-19 14:15:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20211121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KuriTheDweeb/pseuds/KuriTheDweeb
Summary: "Hey," he said, "my name's Steve. What's yours?"Jason wanted to kick him in the face and run.Steve frowned. "I guess you can't tell me that, huh? No worries, you can tell us when you're ready. We're here to help you, not hurt you," he said.Lies.





	1. Chapter 1

Jason pressed hard on the device hidden in his boot. It hissed, whirring loudly, his heel lighting up red. He checked both sides of the street, the end and mouth of the alley, the rooftops. God, the rain was just washing blood over his eyes. His helmet was smashed to shit, so in the dumpster it went.

Tim groaned, sucking in a shaking breath.

Jason ripped off his leather jacket, wrapping it around Tim. Tim looked far too small, too pale, in his jacket. He needed to find a pharmacy or someone who didn't ask questions and fast, he wasn't sure how long it would be before Tim lost too much blood.

"This thing was supposed to suck things in, not spit people out!" Someone said above him. "You sure you saw this right, Clint?"

"Of course I'm sure! It spat out two guys, one with a weird wing-cape thing and a domino mask, the other with a cracked open red helmet and a leather jacket armed to the teeth like the Punisher, both injured," Clint answered irritably, his tone leaving no room for discussion.

He had to hide them, had to hide Tim. Where where where? Think Jason, you monumental undead idiot! Look around. Dumpster, fire escape, street, staircase- staircase to the building at the back of the alley. Good enough for now.

He gathered Tim in his arms, holding him carefully against his chest. He slipped back into his training as Robin, gliding through the shadows and rain to the underside of the staircase. Jason crammed them as far as he could into the farthest corner back, tucked up his knees and held Tim as close as humanly possible.

Tim whined, lifting a hand from his torn up abdomen to clutch at Jason's chestplate. Jason zipped up the jacket a little and wrapped it closer around his shoulders, pressing a kiss to the kid's head.

"It's gonna be okay, little wing, just keep breathing for me, you got that?" He murmured into Tim's hair. "Keep breathing, kid, just a little while longer."

Tim blinked up at him, fingers dragging red across his chestplate. "Jas'n?" He slurred.

"Right here," Jason assured him. He tucked Tim a little closer, pressing his head to the crook of his neck. Tim burrowed in, quieting. If it weren't for his breath on his neck, Jason would have been terrified the brat'd clocked out. "I'm right here, Timbo."

God, someone, _anyone_ please just find them. He didn't care if it was Cass or Damian or someone Bruce had spontaniously adopted when they stepped out for patrol. The tracker in his boot was whirring and hissing and whining, drowned out by the storm, so someone had to have been alerted. B probably had them tagged, and Barbara was probably tracking them right now. Someone had better show up. He'd be cool with anyone.

"Clint, Tony, stay here," a new voice called, and a guy in dark blue gear with a metal shield on his back dropped into the alley.

Literally anyone but them, Karma please don't catch up now.

Jason pressed back even more despite the fact there was no more room, and prayed the shadows had camouflaged them enough. He watched as the man, unbothered by the storm, gutter trash smell, and diluted pool of blood he had landed in, stalked the alley. Jason wiped blood from his domino mask. 

Tim sucked in another pained breath. He hissed softly, curling his arms over his wounds. His skin was loosing too much color and getting too cold. "Hush, little wing," Jason said gently. "I'll fix you up, I swear on my mask, you just gotta keep breathing. Can you do that for me, Red?"

Tim nodded into his neck, trying his best to stay quiet. It's okay, Jason wanted to tell him, they'd be perfectly fine and they'd be home in no time. But then he'd be lying, 'cause honestly he didn't know if it'd be okay any time soon.

The man in dark blue stopped beside the stairs. He shifted, then turned towards them. He dropped into a crouch, scanning the space under the stairs. Jason held his breath. The man scanned over them once, twice, thrice, before squinting at their corner.

_Drip._

_Drip._

_Drip._

He was bleeding on the floor. Shit.

The man's posture loosened. He undid a clasp under his chin, taking off his helmet. He had startlingly blue eyes and messy blond hair. He smiled gently, offering his hand. "Hey," he said, "my name's Steve. What's yours?"

Jason wanted to kick him in the face and run.

Steve frowned. "I guess you can't tell me that, huh? No worries, you can tell us when you're ready. We're here to help you, not hurt you," he said. 

Lies.

"Here, let me take your friend and we'll patch you both up - " he reached for Tim.

Jason's grip tightened, and before he knew what he was doing, he'd kicked the offending hands away and, with more force than he knew he had in him, had roared in protest, screaming that no one was getting anywhere near his brother now _back the fuck off before I bite, bitch._

Steve pulled back his hands, holding them up in that Do-No-Harm gesture. "Okay," he said softly. "Okay. Listen, we can help you, but only if you let us. Please, come with us, let us help you."

So they could kill Tim or hold them captive or reveal their identities to the world or hand them over to Ra's Al Ghul and the League of Shadows? Nuh-uh, not happening. He will bite, and kick, and scream the entire trip down to hell when his adrenalin runs low and he realizes his stupid decisions, but he ain't even gonna consider this guy's so called help. No consideration, no stupid decisions, no one getting Al-Ghul-ified. Hopefully.

He could trick this guy.

Slowly, Jason nodded. He uncurled, shuffling over to the edge of the staircase. Above the alley was a gold and red metal man, and perched on the rooftop was a guy with a bow and quiver. He glanced at Steve, then them, then down at Tim, and took deliberate steps back.

Steve softened. He signaled to the others to stand down. Metal Man landed across from Arrows, his faceplate lifting to reveal that it was a suit, not an android like Red Tornado. Arrows huffed, but stowed his bow. Good.

Jason didn't like how labored Tim's breathing was getting.

He moved forward, stepping into the rain. Steve stood beside him, off his guard. He led them to the mouth of the alley, stood off to one side and waited. Probably for Jason to check the road again. He was soft, careful like he was scared he'd frighten them. This was his chance.

He took half a step, sliding his foot forward, and shifted his center of gravity to his other leg. As quick as he could, he swung his leg up and back, hooking his ankle behind Steve's neck, and dropped. Steve was frozen. On the way down, Jason slipped his foot behind Steve's ankle and twisted with his hips, sending him to the ground hard and fast. He rolled with it, stumbling into a crouch and popping back up to his feet while they all gathered there bearings.

He sprinted the exact opposite way they wanted them to go. 

"Hey! Stop!" Arrows - or Clint by the sounds of it, Metal Man must be Tony - yelled after him.

Jason shifted Tim to hold him against his hip, grabbing for his the pistol against his belt. An arrow flew past his fingers. He banked left, dropping to the shadows and silencing his footsteps. 

Right, left, past, right, right, past, left, left.

"Get back here, punk!" Someone who could only be Tony yelled from above them. 

Oh, good, just what they needed.

If he made a grab for his guns, Clint would fire. But not for the knives on him. He grabbed two from behind the back of his belt, took a glance over his shoulder, and threw them. Clint screamed curses. The other hit metal, and fell. 

Not so good.

"Replacement, you gotta keep that head up, y'hear me?" He said. "I need your help. You got those disc things that go boom that we used back in our day?"

Tim fumbled through the pouches on his utility belts. He shoved three discs into Jason's hand, each slick with red, all set to blow. "Thanks, buddy," he said, looking back to aim. Two to the shoulder joints, one for the faceplate. He threw them, and cranked the speed up at notch.

"What the - ?"

_Boom. Boom._

Drugstore, jackpot! Jason turned right, crossed the street, and ducked into the alley. Tim placed a code breaker into his hand without him having to ask. He slapped it on the door beside the keypad, watching the skies for Tony.

C'mon, c'mon, c'mon . . .

_Click._

He shoved the door open and hurried inside, slamming it shut behind them. He prayed, for all it was worth, they'd pull out alright. The light behind the counter was on. He set Tim on the counter and ducked behind it to find a kit.

Ah, ow, the adrenalin was wearing off. Why did his ankle hurt so much? It wasn't broken, probably just majorly sprained, which was inconvenient. Ace bandage on the shelf, wrap it up, move on with the day. Oh, there was the emergency kit he knew they had hidden under here.

Jason stiched up his brother, wrapped his wounds and talked him through the pain. He found an IV line, put in a vein in Tim's elbow and one in his forearm, propped his arm up so blood would flow from Jason to him, and settled in to wait. The tracker in his boot kept going.

Someone had to find them. Anyone.

"Let them go," Steve said into the comm.

"That punk just tried to blow me to hell!" Tony protested. "He threw fucking bomb discs at me!"

"Bomb discs?" Clint questioned.

"There were little discs that they threw like ninja stars and they went boom," he explained. "Oh, hold up, Fury's on the line. Hello sir, welcome to hell."

"I heard an anomaly passed came through the tear," Fury said in place of greeting. "Is that true, gentlemen?"

"Two anomalies, Sir," Clint answered. "Both appearing human, male, presumably early twenties and under, both masked, both injured."

"They're brothers," Steve added.

"And I assume it's safe to say the anomalies are safely within your possession?"

"No, Sir. I'm afraid the big one managed to get the jump on us," Clint hissed, prodding at the knife sticking out of his arm. 

"Stop doing that."

"Report back to the tower," Fury growled. "You will find these anomalies, and you will contain them, is that understood?"

Steve looked towards the drugstore Tony had tracked them to. He could see them, the smaller one laid out on the counter under the light while his brother carefully stiched up the worst of his wounds. The smaller one stirred, jerking up and making a grab for his brother's hands. He stopped to talk him down before continuing.

"Rogers?"

Steve turned away, pressing a finger to his comm. "Will do, Sir."

"Hood? Hood," Tim tapped the back of his hand. 

Jason grumbled, lifting his head. Tim carefully took the IV line out of their arms. There was blood clotted by his hairline, his ankle had been quickly wrapped up, and the bullets grazes and that gash along his side had been left unattended.

"Oh, Jason," he said softly, pushing himself up. Jason immediately tried to get him to lay back down. "Why didn't you tend to your own wounds?"

"You were worse," he mumbled. "M'fine."

"No you're not," Tim countered. There was an emergency kit open beside him. He brushed Jason's hair out of the way of the cut. Jason hissed. "Let's get you cleaned up, huh?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We underestimated them, and we're not going to put the team at risk if these kids decide to do worse than distract us."
> 
> That was the dark side of this story. Steve hoped this would stay in the light.

Despite Tim's useless objections, they looted the drug store. Kinda. They took what they needed; food, medical supplies, crutches for Jason, surprisingly enough some clean clothes. Jason told Tim while braiding his hair back to stop whining about it, they had to deal with it for now, now stop fidgeting damnit.

They compromised. Take the stuff, leave some cash, get the hell out of dodge.

Tim dropped some money beside the register closest to the door when they left. Word of advice, never go on patrol without either snacks or your wallet or you will find that you majorly regret it, just don't let it get stolen.

They stumbled over to the nearest 24-hour store to buy some bags. After all, carrying around their uniforms and weapons in broad daylight would be just begging for the bastards from earlier to find them. Bruce's cards still worked, so maybe they were still in their own world. They packed their supplies in the alley, suits and masks under everything else.

"We need a place to stay for now," Tim pointed out as they walked down the street, seeming much more like a pair of unsuspecting tourists than vigilantes on the run. "Are we making base?"

"Might as well," Jason muttered. "Those guys are new, if they belong to Ra's then I think we best do some digging."

"I can try to get at them from my phone, but we should find a place for the night," he suggested. "Something tells me those guys are gonna circle back any time."

They would find a place, somewhere no one would look twice at, and set up shop. Though Tim doubted either of them would be getting any rest any time soon.

"Find anything?"

"Nothing. They're long gone by now," Tony hissed, furiously tapping away at a tablet in hand. He waved it accusatorily at Steve. "If you hadn't stopped me, they'd be here right now. Why did you stop me?"

They're hurt kids scared out of their minds, he wanted to say, even if they're masked or trained, it wasn't right.

"Think about it this way," he said instead. "Their knives don't look like they're from any of our enemies, the things they threw at you were new tech, and the move that guy pulled on my was like nothing I've ever seen. No one's pulled this kind of stuff on us, and I can count on one hand how many groups got the jump on us like that. We underestimated them, and we're not going to put the team at risk if these kids decide to do worse than distract us."

That was the dark side of this story. Steve hoped this would stay in the light.

"Which is also why we need to bring them in," Tony shot back, still tapping away. A frustrated look crossed his face. "Come on!"

"What?"

"I'm trying to find any record of them, 'cause the tear that closed up after spitting out our new friends was obviously a natural portal or some temporal displacement shit," he explained. "They're damn ghosts. I've got nothing all around."

Huh. Looks like whoever trained them knew what they were doing. He wondered who trained them. How they'd been trained came in to question, too. Steve remembered faintly seeing ragged scars at the older boy's temples like he'd been hit too many times with a blunt object, and on the younger the edge of a scar that looked like someone tried to take a blade to his neck, all of them faded enough that he wouldn't have noticed if he hadn't been so focused on them at the time.

What if . . . What if they'd been trained like Natasha, or Bucky, had been?

"I'm back."

They'd settled into a small abandoned apartment building, claiming a semi-furnished apartment on the top floor where they had easy access to the roof and a view of their surroundings. 

"What'd you even go out for?" Tim questioned, not looking up from his phone. He typed in a new line of code.

"Makeup. Books. Recon. Bribes." Tim looked up. Jason held out a coffee cup. Tim made a grab for it, only for Jason to lift it out of reach. "I'm buying silence."

"For?"

"Timbo, you tell anyone I went soft on you and I'll kick your ass, understood?"

"Oh, a threat _and_ a bribe, you're in a good mood," Tim quipped, grabbing the coffee.

Jason dropped the plastic bag by his crutches and took a seat on the couch beside him, throwing his legs over Tim's lap. 

"Better mood than earlier. Or, well, yesterday, I guess. After midnight," he said. "Hey, did you know there's a place a few streets down that sells books for like a dollar? They've a got a nice little set up over there."

"That's nice," Tim hummed. He continues tapping away at his phone, finishing up a new program that would hopefully help him hack the metal man's suit. "Someone should have found us by now."

"I'll try calling Dick." 

Jason fished his phone out of his pocket, hit the contact 'Dickhead' and the call button. It rang. And rang. And rang. And rang. And went to voicemail. 

Weird. He tried again. It rang, rang, rang, rang. And back to voicemail. That wasn't good. Dick always answered them, even if it was inconvenient for him. Always, no exceptions.

"He's not picking up."

Tim choked on his coffee.

"What? Dick - " he coughed " - always answers. You sure?"

Jason hit the call button, letting it ring to it's heart's content. Again. No such luck this time either.

"_Hello! This is Dick Grayson. I'm sorry I can't come to the phone right now - _" 

End call.

"Something has to be wrong," Tim said.

"No kidding."

Dick had been on patrol with them when they'd been transported to wherever they were now, he must be worried sick. Why he wouldn't pick up was beyond them. Concussion? Sickness? Broke his phone? Those were best-case scenarios, but knowing their family those were probably not the case.

The brothers shared a look.

Shit.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Is that who you're running from?"
> 
> Hope you like walking without ankles, buddy.

They tried to call Dick again. They called Duke. They tried Steph, Cass, Damian, Barbara, even Bruce. No one was picking up. Not even Alfred. Something was majorly wrong. The others, they could be written off as busy or majorly concussed or passed the fuck out or as having busted their phone or all of the above, but Alfred, no. Their eldest brother was a coincidence, their father a warning sign, their grandfather a siren, but all three?

That was trouble written in bold neon letters.

"We have to get out of here," Tim hissed, running a hand through his hair, fingers catching on the crown of braids Jason had made.

Jason couldn't agree more.

"And how do you expect to do that if we don't even know where here is?"

"There's this marvelous thing called Google."

They were silent as Tim fiddled with his phone. His brow creased. He paused for a moment, scrolling, then typed something else, then something else. He sucked in a breath, looking up at Jason.

"So I have good news and bad news," he started, nervous. Jason raised a brow. "Good news is, there's absolutely no risk of anyone recognizing us."

"Okay. Fat chance, but okay. And the bad news?"

Tim showed Jason his screen. In the search bar, he'd typed GOTHAM CITY. Underneath, NO RESULTS FOUND.

"Jay, Gotham doesn't exist," Tim said. "There's nothing on the Justice League, and all that comes up for Batman is stupid cryptics, myths, and bullshit. Nothing that actually relates to Bruce."

No way. Actually? 

People not having heard of Batman, that was normal, he was still more myth than man in most places. Now Gotham, Gotham was a shithole but most of the world had heard of it thanks to Bruce's flashy media life, and this city was familiar in a way that meant he knew he'd been here before, and considering they weren't in the middle of nowhere there was a good chance they were still in country. No one hearing of the Justice League, though, that was plain wrong. They were superheroes on a global scale, the Earth's honorary world savers, recognizable everywhere and anywhere unless wearing stupid glasses.

"Tim," Jason said slowly. "Do you think Ra's sent us to a different world?"

" . . . Maybe?"

_Jesus Christ - Suddenly I am distressed. I am distressed I am distressed I am distressed I am distressed I am distressed -_

"Okay, stop panicking."

"I'm panicking? You're panicking, too!" Tim snapped.

"How's about we both stop panicking, then, huh?" Jason retorted.

"How are we supposed to not panic in a situation like this? I'd love to know, truly."

Valid point, but really not helping. Wait, idea.

"What?"

"We need a Perch. Center city, high up, covert. Someplace that maybe those bastards would swing away from. Maybe Blue Boys - "

"Blue Boys territory?" Tim demanded, shoving Jason's legs off him so he could stand. His phone dropped into Jason's lap, the words NO RESULTS FOUND standing out on the website backdrop. "Are you out of your fucking mind? Blue Boys don't exactly like us on our home turf, they sure as hell won't like us any better here!"

"Well that's the only idea I've got, so please detective," Jason snapped back, "if you've got literally anything else, lay it out for me." Tim didn't say a word. "That's what I thought."

"Look, I might not have anything right now, but that does not mean I'm stupid or desperate enough to go grappling in front of any kind of police," he waves his hands around as he speaks as if the motions mean anything, almost dropped his coffee cup multiple times. "You of all people should be against this stupid idea, or is you shoving eight heads in a bag not enough of a reminder?"

Before he could utter a word, there was a soft _thump_ from the roof. Both of them shut up. And grabbed for their masks.

"As far as society is concerned, they don't exist," Tony announced to the room. He sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. With a flick of his wrist, a hologram flew across the room. On every one of the little panels on the screen, read NO MATCHES. "I've put them through every facial recognition and applied them all to every camera in the city, I tried matching to a million I.D. databases, I haven't found a trace of them."

"They're professionals, I'll say that," Natasha hums from her seat across the table. 

The bandages on her face and wrapped around her arm are too bright against the rest of her mission-grime covered person. Clint, seated cross-legged on the table beside her, nodded in agreement, fiddling with one of his hearing aids. 

"They gotta kind of training takes an entire lifetime t' nail down," he said, frowning down at the purple device in his hands, "prolly started young."

Damn near everyone grimaced. Wanda shrunk back in her chair, jamming her hands under her thighs. Sam lays a gentle hand on her shoulder for comfort. 

"Our objective is to locate these two," Steve waved a hand at the hologram, "as soon as possible and bring them into custody. Preferably without violence. They are injured, to what extend is unknown but from what we know the smaller one is far worse off and in no condition to put up a fight. Stay alert, and report in whatever you find on them no matter how small."

"They must have set up a home base somewhere near where they were spotted, in easy distance of medical and basic supplies." 

Here's hoping they didn't get too far. God knows what could happen to the kids.

Red Hood settled all his weight on his uninjured leg, Red Robin snapping his bo staff to full length beside him. Hood aimed very carefully at the back of the stranger's head.

"Drop your weapon," Hood ordered the man, voice low and steady, "and turn around."

The man tensed, head snapping up like he wasn't used to being snuck up on. Yeah, they had that effect on people, move on. He did eventually drop the rifle in his hands, slowly turning to face them with his hands in the air. Hood watched him carefully. Dark hair cut close, a nose broken one too many times, combat boots and a bullet proof vest with a skull spray painted on it. This was a guy who knew what he was doing.

"Who are you and why are you here?"

The man squinted hard at them. Then he blinked, flinching back like he'd been burned. "Awh, hell. You're just kids, ain't'cha?"

They ignored his statement.

"Who are you?" Red repeated. "Why are you here?"

"Frank Castle. You two running from someone?"

"Hey, s'ain't a conversation, got it?" Hood hissed, the lilt to his voice Crime Alley had given him bleeding through. "Y'listen to him, stop askin' questions, an' answer honest, or I start takin' out joints."

"Why are you here? Did Ra's Al Ghul or the League of Shadows send you?"

"Got a job in the neighborhood." Castle's face pinched around the nose. His posture told he was telling the truth. "Who the hell's Ra's Al Ghul?"

After a moment Red flashed a few signs in his peripheral. _Potential ally. Hold close watch. Keep open escape route._ Hood gave the slightest tilt of his head towards him in response.

"Is that who you're running from?"

Hope you like walking without ankles, buddy.

Red held up a hand to stop him. "No. Maybe," he answered. "A different group, might work for him. How do we know you won't try to do the same thing they are? Take us in, hurt us?"

"Trust me, buddy, the police don't like me and never will," Castle said. "And, I had kids. I don't do kids. What I can do is get you lined up with some help."

"No. No way," Jason said, more so to Tim than Castle. "We're fine on our own, we don't need t'go around trustin' _anyone_ in this place."

"I know. We're just waiting for someone to come get us, but that doesn't mean we should be taking any chances. We can't keep ourselves barricaded here forever. If this guy can help us - "

"Didn't B teach ya not to trust without cause - "

" - he also taught us to take a chance if we think it's worth the shot," Tim argued.

An entire range of emotions flickered across Castle's expression. Tim pointing at him with his bo staff and a raised brow.

"Ugh. Fine," Jason all but growled, "but when this goes an' explodes in our faces, I ain't pullin' yer ass outta the fire."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frank decided he had a few more fuckers to add to the top of his hit list.

They were just kids on the run. 

Arguing in front of the big bad Punisher with no idea who he was, one holding him at gunpoint like being able to not only do that but also sneak up on Frank Castle was entirely normal. Neither of them had stepped into the light, safely tucked away in the shadows. The most he'd been able to piece together was that they were goddamn kids, and they were injured.

Big one settled too much weight on one leg, shifted to put himself in front of the other in the overprotective way siblings did. They sure bickered like siblings. The smaller one held his staff in a way that protected his chest in particular.

"What kind of help?" Smaller asked.

"Safehouses, supplies, protection. I have people who'll give medical attention, no questions asked."

They seemed to consider this. Smaller made several motions, and Bigger made several soft noises or shifts in body language in answer. Eventually, Bigger put both his guns back in their holsters at his hips, both of them stepping into the light. Frank sucked in a breath through his teeth.

Oh, no, these boys were just like the Spider-Brat.

"We can't tell you our names, Castle, not our real ones," Smaller says. "But people call me Red Robin. This is Red Hood."

"How soon can ya get us a set up?"

"Medical attention, a day. Stocked safehouse, two."

"Do it," Red Hood said roughly, crossing his arms over his chest. "We don't got much time."

Your types never do, he doesn't say. "I'll be back."

"_Mnh. Claire Temple speaking._" Her voice crackles over the speaker, rough with fatigue.

"Sorry to wake you, ma'am. I'm afraid I need to ask a favor," Frank tells her, curled up on Curtis's couch with a cup of coffee cradled in his hands and his friend a warm presence beside him.

"_Frank_?" Temple asks. There's some fabric rustling, a door closing, and she speaks a little louder. "_Yeah, of course. Something wrong?_"

"S'not me. There's these two boys, brothers I think. Found them on accident when I was on a job. They're runnin' from a guy, got hurt bad. They need help, ma'am," he explains. "I'm lining them up with a place, but that don't help medical-wise."

"_How bad?_"

He brushes a thumb over the lip of his mug. "Not sure. All I know is it's bad enough to need two'ah yous."

"Hey, Nurse Temple. It's Curtis the medic, we met once," Curtis finally speaks up, leaning into Frank's side and throwing half his blanket over Frank's shoulders. "Frankie told me to bring my full pack, you should too."

"_Hi, Curtis. Sure, I'll do that. When, uh - do we have a meeting time with them?_"

"Yeah. Tonight. I'll come pick you up at ten. Thank you, ma'am, I owe ya one."

"_Hell yeah, you do._" A smile tugged at his lips. He always did like the lady's attitude. "_Bye Frank. Bye Curtis._"

She hung up.

It was quiet for a moment. Frank stared down at his mug, half-empty and contents long since turned cold. Curtis pried it out of his hands, gently setting it down on the coffe table. He pressed their foreheads together when Frank looked his way.

"You need sleep. Come to bed."

"I ain't your girl, Curt."

"Come to bed," Curtis repeated insistently. "Just like old times, bunking together."

"I can't. Not right now."

"Frank, you can't keep running on fumes and coffee. You're burning out."

"I can't, Curt." He scrubbed a hand over his face, pulling himself away. "I got calls to make. Let me do this."

Curtis watched him for a few seconds. He sighed, "Alright. I'm going back to bed, join me when you're done." 

No promises.

He called the next number on his list as Curtis ambled away, dragging his blanket behind him like a toddler.

"_No._"

"I haven't even said anything."

"_Whatever it is, no,_" Red huffed.

"I need a place in the Kitchen where they'll be safe. Two boys, masks."

Red said nothing for a long time.

Frank held his breath.

"_I'm listening_."

Frank clasped Temple's wrist, pulling her up and over the lip of the building. "Jesus, you guys do this shit every night? How?" she wheezed.

"Practice," some answered stiffly from the other side of the roof. "Didn't say you'd be bringin' friends."

"Sorry," Frank apologizes half-heartedly, hands in the air as he turns. As expected, Red Hood has a gun in hand, Red Robin partially hidden behind him. Robin looked more worse for wear than last time, paler and seeming to be putting some of his weight on his brother. "Claire Temple, nurse. Curtis Hoyle, medic. Curt, miss, this is Red Hood and Red Robin."

"Of course they're masks, why did I think it'd be any different with my luck."

"And you trust 'em?" Red Hood looked them over.

"That I do."

"Fine. You work on him first." Hood motioned over his shoulder at his brother.

"Hood - "

"No, we ain't having this discussion," Hood snapped. "You're worse than I am. They work on you first."

Frank kept his mouth shut. Robin sighed, leading them through the roof access and down into one of the two apartments on the top floor. Their setup is neat, kept to the main room with a nest of blankets on the couch and a few bags in one corner. A set of crutches leaned against the kitchen counter, beside a bag of medical supplies.

"You're missing your spleen?" Curtis asked.

"It's a long story," Red Robin said dismissively, pulling off his sweatshirt. Bandages, stained red, covered most of his torso. He had the kinds of scars Frank did. He rolled his shoulders, wincing. "Kinda unpleasant one, too."

"Any chance of us getting those dominoes off you?" Curtis asked, crouched down beside Robin as he settled on the nest, undoing the bandages that looked like they were done by a professional. He whistled. "Damn. You're lucky."

Sewn up gashes tear across his abdomen.

"Only kinda luck we got is bad. What we got is skill. Experience," Hood grunts, sitting on the kitchen counter and letting Temple tilt and twist his head every which way.

"Unfortunately, you guys have amazing sutures," she muttered. "You got a pretty bad laceration here. I'm gonna do a head check, okay?"

He knew the year, was a few weeks off with the date, could go back from seven-hundred counting by sevens, could recount a pattern she gave him five minutes prying to being asked for an answer, and knew where he was. He did not tell them his name. All good signs.

"Heard you're running from someone," Curtis said conversationally, prodding gently at Robin's stitches. "Who's Al Ghul?"

"It's not him we're running from, we can deal with Al Ghul just fine. And I wouldn't really call it running," Robin said, remaining completely and perfectly still. "Just waiting for someone to find us, really."

"There are more of you?" Frank asked softly. There were more of them, more kids running around collecting beatings and bruises like action figures and learning how to beat information out of someone instead of how to tie their shoelaces.

"Yeah, tons of us. We're more or less a big dysfunctional family, more of a clan really. Our sort-of-dad - " Hood scoffed " - is the protector of our city. Well known around our parts."

"You guys a long way from home then?"

Hood scoffed. "Understatement of the century. Ai - " he swatted at Temple's hands. "Careful there, doc."

Frank handed Curtis some gauze as the kid's wounds still sluggishly bled. He was surprised these two still had blood in them.

"Hey!"

Temple raised a single brow. "You know Spanish," she noted.

"'Course I do," he sniffed. "'M Latinx, an' grew up in Crime Alley."

Crime Alley? Never heard of that place before. Home must be further than they thought.

"Sounds like a wonderful place."

"You'd be surprised."

Curtis squinted at something under all the gore. "Red Robin?" The kid hummed. "What's this scar from? Right along here," he traced a line in the air above the wounds.

"My spleen."

Both medical professionals flinched. Frank thought he was pretty sure you needed all your organs to live, but apparently not. Or at least, you would live, but it sure as hell wouldn't be easy.

"Don't look at me like that. He's got worse," Red Robin jerked his head back in a motion to his brother. "Hood, tell them."

Hood shrugged, "Got vivisected."

"I don't believe that." Temple had sat down on the floor to take a look at Hood's ankle. "No one could possibly survive that."

Hood lifted his shirt to show them the scar, carved long and deep into his chest.

"Got vivisected. Walked it off."

Frank decided he had a few more fuckers to add to the top of his hit list.

Tony enlarged a piece of feed from a security camera across the street. The marker set the video as having been taken yesterday. 

"F.R.I.D.A.Y., sharpen that."

The skull came into focus. Why, Mr. Punisher. Little far from your territory, aren't you?

The Punisher dropped his weapon, slowly turning to the shadows with his hands above his head.

"Now what do we have here?" Tony leaned towards the screen. "Boost the brightness, I wanna see what's standing there." Castle flinched. "See if you can get any audio from this."

Adjusting the brightness did no good, whoever was holding up Frank Castle knew what they were doing. Who on God's green Earth could it be, he wondered?

Too quick, something came flying out of the dark space, hurtling towards the camera. The feed went fuzzy, then dark. What the - ?

"Rewind that eight seconds. Slow it down."

Some like a ninja star? Was this one of those weird ninja cults he'd heard the Defenders or whatever they wanted to call themselves dealt with?

"Little more, F.R.I.."

Oh, no, it had an entirely different shape. And what was that material? It was absolutely gorgeous.

"Let's try frame by frame." 

No. Still too blurry to decipher what it was. Shame.

"Go as slow as you can get it. I need a clear picture of this."

There we go. It was a little messy, and the thing was so fast it was still a little fuzzy around the edges, but that was definitely a bat shaped ninja star. Like nothing he'd ever seen before. Who was this? Another one like Natasha, or maybe Bucky? New super soldier? Secret S.H.I.E.L.D./H.Y.D.R.A./A.I.M./etc project? Wait, maybe -

_Their knives don't look like they're from any of our enemies. No one's pulled this kind of stuff on us. We undestimated them._

_Bingo._

_The Anomalies._

_He should totally report this. Totally, right now, this very second, no exceptions. But on the other hand, it wouldn't hurt to watch that building for just a little while longer._


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How long until they were found, until they saw Gotham again, until that team or Al Ghul tracked them down, until they got thrown through another rift-tear-Doctor Who level thing again?
> 
> "I don't know," he said, because that was the answer to all those questions.

Two-seventeen, two-eighteen, two-nineteen . . .

"Are you just trying to tire yourself out?" Tim asked, seated on Jason's back with one one of their books. "Do I even weight anything to you?"

Jason continued doing pushups. 

"Guess not."

There was a thud from the roof. And another.

"Off. Castle brought a friend," he muttered, shoving his brother off. Tim rolled with it, grabbing his bag from the corner and tossing Jason his own.

He threw it over his shoulder just as someone knocked. Tim called out that the door was unlocked, and in strode Castle and a man in a black mask.

"These are them," Castle told his buddy. "Told ya, just like your Spider-Kid."

The man in the mask grunted.

"Ya gonna introduce us or what?"

"'Course. Red Hood, Red Robin," Castle waved an arm at his buddy, "meet Daredevil, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. He's the protector of the area I'm putting you in."

"And you felt the need for us to meet him, why?"

"Because you aren't stopping any time soon," Daredevil answered. "Might as well have some help, and a space to train while you're here."

Huh. So Castle did think of everything.

"Well y'ain't wrong."

"We should get going," Tim said, securing Jason's crutches to his bag. "They'll be here soon."

"_They_?" Daredevil questioned. He sounded kinda like Bruce, in that fake, gritty, I-Gargle-Broken-Glass-Everyday kinda way.

"I wasn't able to finish my program the first night we were here, and a camera spotted us. I destroyed it, but I don't doubt they'll be able to track what footage it was able to get. Of course it's done now, cameras around us will loop their footage once we're within a certain radius of them, it won't happen again. Let's get going."

Castle put his hands on his hips, raising a brow at Daredevil. Daredevil mumbled something, waving a hand his way in defeat.

And then they were off across the rooftops. And just in time too. Daredevil helpfully informed them two blocks down that three people had just broken into the apartment they'd set up shop in.

Castle pulled up his hood and kept his head down, joining them on the subway and in the streets once they'd dropped to ground level. Daredevil met them at the edge of Hell's Kitchen, where they got back up to roof level. Daredevil escorted them, showing them to a church where he said they could always get help, an ancient gym they could use to train after hours, and lastly two rooftops. One where he said he met with two others for patrols sometimes, a Spider-Man and Deadpool, and another in the north end of the Kitchen where his sort of team he accidentally joined that one time because of that one time with ninjas and blowing up a building, don't ask, called the Defenders pestered him to join them for missions sometimes.

Try not to talk to either of these teams without him present, please.

Castle watched them do a full sweep of the apartment he brought them to a silence, leaning a hip against the doorway. Daredevil waited outside with him.

"They don't sound right," Daredevil said. "And I don't just mean the too-flat accent."

"Hm," Castle answered.

"They buzz. Their entire structure vibrates differently than everyone else," he said. "You said they were far from home. How far?"

"Don't know, Red. Far. Dropped out of the sky, far."

"They're listening."

"I know, don't expect anything less. I ain't asking questions, don't think you should be either."

"Maybe not. Maybe I'll go asking anyway."

Jason continued counting the medical supplies in the bathroom.

"How long do you guess we have?" Tim asked. How long until they were found, until they saw Gotham again, until that team or Al Ghul tracked them down, until they got thrown through another rift-tear-Doctor Who level thing again?

"I don't know," he said, because that was the answer to all those questions. His brother scrubbed a hand through his hair and sighed, sinking against the wall to the floor. "Hey, don't think about that right now. B's training can wait, we can live in the present for a little, until we figure out what happened. They're coming for us."

"But how long will it take? Hood, it displaced us in time. We're weeks behind them! What it hasn't happened yet, or it did happen and time passes slower or more quickly here, what if the temporal displacement means it's years before they get to us? We could spend our entire lives here, and it might've been a month for them," Tim snapped.

"Don't you talk like that. He'll break all his rules to bring us home and we both know it. We wait for now, then we'll try to reach them from our side. Good?"

Tim leaned his head back against the wall. "There's a balcony, and easy access to the roof on this floor," he said.

"Good."

Castle knocked on the doorframe. "You boys alright?"

"Define alright."

Castle chuckled. He dug something out of his pocket, and handed it to Tim. A burner phone. "Listen, that's got me, Daredevil, Nurse Temple, and Curtis on it," he said. "You call us if you get into trouble. No one's asking anything."

"Okay."

"Horns and I are gonna head out. Be careful."

Tim turned the phone over in his hands as they left. 

"We're gonna be okay here, for now," he said after a long, quiet moment. 

"For now."

Clint kicked over the trash can. Sterile supplies. Bandaid covers, packages for those sanitary wipes, a little empty tape roll. Bloody swaths of gauze that would certainly match the few droplets they got from the water when they first came upon the brothers

"Nothing," Natasha noted. "Not a speck of evidence. The footage is all we have."

"And these," Clint said, crouching down to collect a sample. "Damn these guys're good, though."

"Like they've done it before. _Had to_ do it before."

Oh, and there was that little tone that his hearing aids could barely pick up. The Natasha's Gonna Kill Someone And Not For Assignment tone. This would not be a good assignment for her, considering her past with the room with the colored name.

"Who do y'think they're running from?" Clint asked.

"I have hope," she answered, "it's who made them this way."


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He paused when he saw Tim perched very carefully on the windowsill.
> 
> "You're new," Nelson said after a tense minute of silence. "Want some coffee?"

No more cameras had picked up the anomalies leaving the building, but they had left the building. Not all that long before the resident spies had made it there, either. It had been reported that these kids were smart, and had likely needed to pack up and move out without notice before. 

To be honest, Tony didn't know how he felt about the situation at large. He'd gotten great at ignoring feelings while working, and all he'd been doing lately was working.

Tony glanced up from the small circuitboard in hand at the wall F.R.I.D.A.Y. was playing all the camera footage in the area on. One of the panels high up caught his attention.

"Pause." He put down his tools to pull the hologram down to eye level, enlarging it. "Play back, hn, fifteen seconds. Loop that to another minute." There was a pause a little bit too long before the seconds mark ticked up. "Can you add nanoseconds to the time?"

Wait. Wait. There. It held just a fraction of a second too long, and skipped a fraction at the end. Looped footage with a current time stamp, damn near flawless. And they didn't have any sort of computer equipment, oh this was amazing. He'd love to pick the brain of whichever brother had programmed that.

Brother.

The reality of it all finally came crashing down on him. He held it back with duct tape and staples, shoving the realization into a little box in the darkest corner of his mind.

"Put that as the center of search, would ya F.R.I.? And, uh, look for the next camera that does that, rinse and repeat."

"Will do, Boss. Might I suggest that you take a nap while I search?"

It wouldn't take that long to do the search. This was trickery. He said, "I'm busy. What did you find?"

"The trail goes cold in Hell's Kitchen. The last camera picked up the Kitchen's Devil having disappeared when the loop ended, it's likely that the anomalies met with him on the edge of his territory."

Of course, that only complicated things.

"Clint's friends or something of the like with him, right?" She confirmed this. "Sent him to go ask around."

"Agent Barton has been notified. In other news, it's time to go get yourself some food, Boss."

Damn. He'd really been looking forward to finishing with that circuit.

Waking up felt like a dream gone dark.

Tim had never been good at falling asleep. He'd always had something to do or somewhere to be or needed to go put out a fire. After patrol, at least, he would be tired out enough that it was less of an issue. No patrol for now though.

Being someplace he knew nothing about, being chased by people he didn't even know where to start with profilling, in an entirely different universe and time stream, only made the nagging insomnia worse.

Rules of the Manor is what first came to mind. Can't sleep, find an open door. Jason's door was almost always open.

He gently pushed his door the rest of the way open. The door to Jason's room across the hall was ajar. Tim crept inside. Neither of them spoke until he was curled into his brother's side, Jason's arm heavy across his waist.

"You too," Jason finally said, "huh, Replacement?"

Neither of them slept that night, much like the first, and Tim thought maybe he cried a little at one point in the night but it was okay. Or it would be.

He missed home, but that was okay.

"We should go scouting today," Jason suggested, seated on the kitchen counter with a cup he didn't drink from in hand. "Or at least mapping."

Ah yes, mapping. The most boring part of being a vigilante, marking things down. It was simple, really. You get a map of the area or maybe make one, the mark down all your threats, routes, and safe spots. It was brain numbing levels of boring.

"Probably," Tim agreed, scrolling through his notes on wherever this was. "What are we scouting for?"

As it turned out, most of the police in the area were dirty and there were two lawyers known for being vigilante whisperers and taking their cases. These people would be a good source of information. They needed to meet these people, they very much needed to meet these people, so they did a more in depth search on the lawyers and their practice. 

Blind Matthew Murdock, Vigilante Savior Franklin Nelson, PI Karen Page, and their secretary named Ashley. And from what he found, Ashley must have the patience of a saint.

Tim adjusted his comm so Jason would be able to hear whoever he was talking to, and Red Robin grappled off the roof.

He knocked on Nelson's window. He could hear Nelson heave a heavy sigh and shuffle over to the living room to answer. He paused when he saw Tim perched very carefully on the windowsill.

"You're new," Nelson said after a tense minute of silence. "Want some coffee?"

"Always," Tim answered.

Nelson refused to talk to him until he was settled comfortably on the couch with a mug of coffee in hand. "So," Nelson said. He made the entire apartment feeling somehow more homely than it already was, with his blond hair pulled back into a messy ponytail and big innocent eyes, and softened Hell's Kitchen accent. He sipped at his own mug, "I'm assuming you have a case."

"Not really."

Nelson raised a single brow."Okay. Then what are you here for?"

"I was hoping you could give me information. We're willing to do favors in exchange," Tim said, very delicately.

"Ah." Nelson didn't comment on how he said _we_. "On what?"

"We're new in the area," he explained slowly, picking his words carefully, "and no one knows who we are here, so now there's a group after us. We have an idea as to why, but not who they are. You have a reputation with the Mask community, I thought you'd know who they are."

"Describe them."

The Avengers, as they were called, were the alternate Justice League, only all grouped together in one city. The Avengers, he decided, where not people they wanted to run into again. Which meant the two of them would need to stay off the streets longer than it took to heal, and all that did was grate on everyone's nerves.

Tim and Jason took to spending the night beating the shit out of heavy bags at Fogwell's instead of patrols.

" - and we really need to find them," Clint finished. "Before someone picks a fight with them."

Matt put his hands on his hips.

"Oh no. Noooo. Don't do that."

"You know," he said.

"Oh God."

"That in their eyes," he continued over Clint, "you're the ones picking the fight with them."

Clint crumbled. "I know," he whined. "They don' understand though. We wanna help them, Steve even said so the first five minutes of meeting them."

"New place, new people. You know how it goes."

"But the first person they trust is _Frank Castle_?"

Matt scoffed, taking a seat beside Clint and pressing their shoulders together. "Trust is relative, and really not the right word," he said. "It's more like, they have a deal."

"Okay. Can I at least try to talk to them?"

"Hm. No."

"You're no help at all."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I could find your home using this. Your team, your mentor, your names."
> 
> Jason laugh. Brittle and bitter. Tim said, "No you can't."

"I thought I'd find you here," Daredevil said as way of greeting, in that Gargling-Broken-Glass fake voice of his. "Call the other one out, would you?"

Jason turned from the heavy bag to face him, unwilling to put his back to this man. 

The Devil wasn't in his usual red get up, instead favoring hand wraps and a black fabric mask. This was the Man In The Mask getup, if he wasn't mistaken. Jason leaned his head one way, spying a smaller figure in the hallway behind him. They waved at him over Daredevil's shoulder and, with a sharp gesture from the man, scuttled off down the hall.

"Who's'at?" he asked.

"In a minute," Daredevil said. "Call the other one out, I need to talk to both of you."

"He'll be listenin'. Talk."

"If you're sure," Daredevil said, crossing his arms. "First off, I've heard you've come in contact with Franklin Nelson. I should warn you that if he ever feels in danger in your presence, whether that be your fault or not, everyone he's defended in the Masks community will be on your ass. I can't guarantee your safety with some of them, but those I've mentioned, I can." Tim wandered out of the shadows to settle at Jason's side. "Now, I'd like to introduce you to my apprentice, Spider-Man. I thought maybe you'd like to train with him sometime."

Daredevil gave a sharp whistle, and the smaller figure came bounding back down the hall. Spider-Man, or so Jason presumed, stood on his toes to drape his arms over Daredevil's shoulders. The man took this with the air of Bruce, standing there emotionlessly in the face of his sunshine child apprentice. This particular child also had an identity to hide, with a red mask with a web design that covered up his nose and a pair of goggles.

"Hi!" Spider-Man chirped, pushing his goggles up to his hairline. 

He had soft eyes, compared to the rest of them. 

"You must be the Brothers Red! I'm Spider-Man, but you can call me Spidey. It's so cool to see other vigilantes my age, I've only heard of like, one other but she ran away to L.A. and stole her mentor's dog last I heard so really there's only me like me and I haven't been doing it too long actually, but Sensei Double D has been teaching me how not to get my butt whooped whenever I go out so I'm doing okay. You guys looked more like capes than masks but that only proves that you know what you're doing and have wayyyy more experience than me - "

Well this one sure was a chatterbox, wasn't he?

"You've only heard of one other?" Tim asked slowly. "What - have the rest gone underground?"

"The rest?" Spidey repeated, in a tone like he'd never heard those words before in his life. "There isn't a rest, no others."

"Then what happened to 'em? They all dead in a ditch or somethin'?"

Spidey dropped back to flat feet beside his mentor, tucking a hand into the crook of Daredevil's elbow. His brows were all scrunched up. "No. There just aren't any others, there never were."

"There's no one else? No sidekicks or partners or apprentices or kids? None at all?" Tim asked.

"I'm the only one. Well, we're the only ones, now that you're here," Spidey said. He leaned his head to one side. "I guess it's different where you're from, huh."

"Polar opposite."

"Is it weird that I'm starting to miss Arkham breakouts," Tim asked softly, although it wasn't really a question. "At least then we had backup and something productive to do."

"What's Arkham?"

"Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane," Jason said, adopting B's uptown Gotham accent for a moment. "S 'where our baddies go. You'd think they'd be better at keepin' people in by now."

Spidey's fingers tightened on Daredevil's sleeve.

"I could find your home using this. Your team, your mentor, your names."

Jason laugh. Brittle and bitter. Tim said, "No you can't."

"And why not?"

"Because it's the first thing we looked for."

The crease of Spidey's brow smoothed a little, but a little pinch at the corner of his eyes replaced it.

"Don't worry, a bat outta hell and his oracle are comin' for us," Jason said, waving a hand dismissively. And they wouldn't be the only ones.

"Oh. Okay. Well, I hope you get home okay then. I could do a tarot reading if you like, to be sure." Daredevil frowned. "You can't diss that, that's not even witchy! It's far more of a psychic thing. Wanda's been teaching me, and it's great."

"I didn't say anything."

"Your heart said a thing. He doesn't believe in magic or mind-stuff, or thinks it's evil or something - " Daredevil muttered something along the lines of no he didn't " - else devout Catholic-like. Can you believe he's Catholic? Goes to church every Sunday and has lattes with his priest and everything."

Tarot cards and readings were way on the good end of the magic spectrum in Jason's opinion, the total opposite of Lazarus necromancy.

"Sure, a tarot reading sounds great."

Spidey beams, and leaves to go grab his deck, presumably. Daredevil sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face in a way that is so _Bruce_ that for half a second he forgets the dark room isn't part of the cave. Tim looks at him like he's crazy.

"What? We've seen worse magic, wha's the harm."

Spidey returns. His deck was new, crisp, he hadn't been doing this long enough or often enough to wear down the edges. He said he'd do two separate readings at the same time, then pull a single card for a joint reading. Be warned, though, he was no expert, and he wasn't the best at joint readings. He was getting better, though. He passed half the deck to Jason and half the deck to Tim, had them each shuffle their half them put the cards in a big pile and mix them up. Draw three cards one at a time, for past, present, future.

Jason drew Death right off the bat. 

Spidey assured him that Death didn't necessarily mean actual death, it was connected to loss or a major change in one's life. Jason knew it meant an actual death, though, his own. Tim shuffled over to sit a little closer, curling an arm around his.

He drew Death, Two of Swords, and Two of Cups. Tim got The Moon, Eight of Wands, and Temperance. 

"You have experienced great loss in your life, and it may still haunt you. You're at a crossroads, soon you will be faced with a choice far more complicated than a right and a wrong, don't worry though. You'll be reunited with someone you have a profound bond with at the end of the path you take," Spidey told him, slow and careful with his interpretation to be sure they were good. He then turned to Tim, staring down at the three cards. "You longed for something, and when you got it it came with another obstacle. You face new obstacles now, and you'll get tired and frustrated with it but don't worry. Patience will persevere and you'll come out on top."

The final card was Five of Cups.

Daredevil made a little hissing noise at the Five of Cups. Spidey nodded gravelly. He put the card back in the deck, shuffled, and told them to draw again. Five of Cups. Again. Three of Cups, but stuck to the back of it was Five of Cups. Spidey scowled at it.

"What's wrong with that one?" Tim asked.

They couldn't see anything wrong with it. Like the rest of the deck, there was a smudgy black outline and it's name in a slanted scrawl at the top. There was nothing odd about the hooded man cradling a goblet, four more lined along the bottom edge.

"It's got bad energy stuff. It has bad vibes, super senses don't trust it," Spidey explained. Daredevil hissed a bit louder at it as if for emphasis. "I don't think it's your guys'. Someone close to you maybe? Whoever it is, is in bad vibes. It'll turn out okay eventually though, I think," he said, tapping the card with three people raising their goblets to the sky. "This one says good things. You'll get home."

"A card can't speak," Tim pointed out.

Spidey hummed. There was something in his eyes when he gathered the cards. "Maybe not," he said. "But like everything, they feel."

He disappeared when Daredevil motions to the door, waving with his cards.

"One of the Avengers, Hawkeye - the one with the bow and arrows - came to me to ask where you were," the man said after a moment, "he asked me to set up a meeting. Just you three, he'd come unarmed."

"And you said?"

"I told him no. If you want me to change that, you have my number."

Well apparently this week was eventful for everyone.

Jason was back at the apartment testing his ankle when Castle came to visit. Tim was down the hall, taking a nap before he went scouting that night.

"Who beat you to hell and back?" he asked when Castle climbed through the window, covered in bruises and cradling an arm to his chest. Whether the problem was actually the arm or his ribs was unclear.

"Got pushed off a building on my way here," Castle grunted.

"Pushed."

"Long story."

"By who."

"Longer story."

"If you say so, man. That arm any trouble?"

Castle shrugged. Jason checked his arm, wrapped the little cuts that seemed to be from glass, and gave Castle a sling to use. He refused to let him leave until he let Jason do this, sit your ass down. You treated his injuries without asking questions, let him return the favor.

Goddamn vigilantes and their goddamn medical issues, man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I got some confused comments from a lot of readers, and this chapter has been updated and edited to explain some stuff with Peter. Hope this helped, and thank you so much for your continued comments and support it means the world to me. Have an awesome day, peeps.


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